


A Glimmer of Day

by subversivegrrl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Sexist Language, alternative universe - no walkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subversivegrrl/pseuds/subversivegrrl
Summary: A couple of misfits, a lecher, a lake, and a sunset.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackqueenphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackqueenphoenix/gifts).



> Prompt from blackqueenphoenix: AU Caryl. At a mutual friend and/or co-workers beach party, Caryl meet. Everyone is swimming but them because of their scars. They escape the party together. Ending with sexy times???? 
> 
> This has literally been in my WIP folder for more than 3 years. An adorably fluffy prompt, right? Except you know I don’t do straightforward interpretation (see “Shades of Scarlett Conquering” for what I did with the prompt “crushed velvet”), and besides, these characters aren’t going to end up in bed together right off the bat, even in an AU setting. I just can’t do it. Sorry, BQP, if you’re out there somewhere. 
> 
> Instead there’s angst and drama and a smattering of fluff. And ice cream. 
> 
> Title is from Dan Fogelberg’s “Loose Ends.” (The working title was “Frankie and Annette Do Georgia.” Honk if you’re old or retro enough not to have to Google who Frankie and Annette were.) I was listening to _Nether Lands_ (1977), and this lyric just shouted to me about these characters’ families of origin and their similar histories, and how our origins help to create the patterns we fall into w/r/t the people we allow into our lives. (My headcanon, and that of many others, has always been that Carol came from a family with a domineering if not physically abusive parent, probably her father.)
> 
>  
> 
> _The chords struck at birth grow more distant_  
>  _Yet we strike them again and again_  
>  _And we plead, and we pray_  
>  _for a glimmer of day_  
>  _As the night folds its wings and descends…_  
>  _Exposing the loose ends._
> 
>  
> 
> And now to our story.

He leaned against the post at one end of the park’s shelter house, watching everyone else laughing and having themselves a fine old time, all the while he was wishing he had the power to teleport himself straight back home, like in the movies. It wasn't as if anyone here would even notice he was gone. 

But Daryl had promised John: not only that he’d show up to the barbecue, but to make an attempt to be sociable. He was up for the shop foreman’s position when the man retired in a few months, and it seemed that sticking around and having a beer or two with a bunch of people he didn’t know was the price of John’s goodwill, so... He could barely even finish the thought _._ For him, small talk with strangers was sheer torture, but if this was the kind of sucking up it took to move up at work, he supposed he’d do his best to go along with it. _This_ time. 

It wasn’t like these people were being assholes or anything--hell, everyone had been damn decent to him, even though John and his wife Ella were the only ones he knew. Generous with the food and booze, too, which greased the skids a good deal and made it so he could tolerate the whole experience without freaking out completely. He just didn’t _do_ the whole group social thing, arguing about sports (which he didn’t really follow) or politics ( _hell_ no) or talking about some TV show everybody else seemed to be watching, some kind of end-of-the-world shit about dead people eating the living. He didn’t even own a television right now, since his brother had put his foot through the screen of the last one. (You didn’t mess with The King, as far as Merle was concerned, and the sight and sound of some boy band butchering “Heartbreak Hotel” during the Super Bowl halftime show had been too much for the man.) Unfortunately Merle’s remorse the morning after hadn’t extended to replacing the TV--although, as it turned out, Daryl was just as happy to do without. Left him a little short of conversation material in situations like this, though--just another reason to avoid them, as far as he was concerned. 

The bulk of the party-goers were back in the water, and Daryl’s head ached from all squeals and shouts echoing across the narrow strip of sand, rocks, and mud that served as a ‘beach.’ It was probably a real peaceful place--any time it wasn’t polluted with crowds of people who had no real appreciation for the beauty that surrounded them, that is.

The sun had dipped below the treeline on the far side of the lake, the leaves and limbs scattering the lemon-toned light in flashing patches across the water’s surface. A few hundred feet farther along the shoreline, Daryl spotted a small, rickety-looking wooden dock that listed questionably to one side. Still within earshot of the idiots making that god-awful racket with their splashing around, but it should be a somewhat quieter place to watch the sun set. After this last beer, he’d make his apologies to John and Ella and the host and hostess--assuming he could remember which ones they were--and head out. He’d made a genuine effort for a couple of hours; hopefully John would recognize that and give him credit. Now he could go home to his brother and enjoy Merle’s commentary on his half-assed attempt at fitting in, at improving his life. 

He wandered in the direction of the rotting dock, likely the remnant of someone’s one-time vacation dream home, intent on dipping his feet in the water and relaxing, but as he moved to step up onto it he realized there was someone already sitting there. _Damn._ There went that plan.

She half-turned as he paused, her eyes wary, but then she seemed to relax. Which, when he thought about it, was backwards--he would have expected her to tense up when she didn’t recognize his face, instead of the opposite. 

He hovered at the water’s edge and eyed her. When she didn’t move or speak, he cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Didn’t realize anyone else was out here.” This was stupid. He should just head out now, forget the beer in his hand and the pleasant thought of watching the sun go down over the water. 

“Well, come on up if you’re coming,” she said lightly. She didn’t even look at him, just leaned out over the end of the dock, swinging her legs and letting her eyes drift skyward, watching the line of a bird’s flight.

He hesitated for a moment before grabbing the end post and swinging himself up. The aging structure creaked under his weight, making him freeze in place, wondering if he was about to take a dip in the lake whether he wanted to or not.

The woman cast an amused eye up at him. “I don’t think you need to worry too much. A bunch of the kids were out here earlier, jumping and pushing each other into the water, and it held together under that--I think it can take a couple of sedate old fuddy-duddies like us, sitting and watching the sunset.” 

She caught him by surprise, and he snorted out a laugh. Who even talked like that? He crouched near the edge and carefully lowered himself until his feet hung out over the water. 

“Why don’t you take off your boots? It feels great,” she said, swishing her own toes in the lake. 

“Don’t think so,” Daryl muttered. “You’re downwind, and nobody deserves that kinda stink up their nose.”

She laughed easily, like a cluster of little bells chiming in the breeze. “It’s okay, I think I can handle a little _eau de_ sweatsock.”

He shrugged and moved to untie his work boots. “Your funeral, I guess.”

“If it would make you feel better, we could trade places,” she offered, turning to look at him. Her crystal blue eyes caught the light sparkling off the lake, and Daryl was struck dumb for a moment by how beautiful she was. Not a crafted, glamour-girl beauty, but some God-blessed combination of fine, symmetrical bones, delicate skin, a striking cloud of silver hair, and a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. And those _eyes_ \--Daryl startled as he realized she’d asked him a question while he’d been staring like some kind of dimwit.

“Sorry, what?” He felt a flush of embarrassment creep over his face. 

“I said, what’s your connection to this bunch? Work, family…?” Her mouth turned up at the corners and she got a little crinkle around her eyes, practically laughing at him.

“Yeah, work. John Feder and his wife Ella. I work under John at the Chevy dealership.” 

“So you don’t know Doug and Sandy, then?” As she mentioned their names she seemed to close in on herself, wrapping her arms around her middle with a hint of a shiver.

“That the folks throwin’ this shindig? No, never met ‘em before today. Why?”

“Oh, no particular reason. They’re my in-laws--or were--I was married to Doug’s brother. I’m not sure whether that qualifies as current or former.” She pulled her feet out of the water and tucked them up under her, leaning toward him with her hand out. “I’m Carol, by the way.”

He took her hand, noticing how it felt like a bird’s wing in his clumsy fingers. Graceful, but with an underlying strength. “Daryl.”

“So you’re not much for swimming, Daryl? I didn’t see you out there with the rest of them.” 

Daryl shook his head. “Nah. I mean, I know how, just ain’t…” He shrugged, at a loss for a simple explanation. Fact was, he didn’t take his shirt off in public, ever. 

“Me neither,” she said. “I’m not a fan of--exposing myself like that, I suppose, in the company of people I don’t know.” She smiled faintly, apparently content to leave it at that, and turned back to the water. 

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. Not the chatty type, thank god. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she’d wanted to ask him a bunch of questions, get his story. Stories he had, but mostly the kind that would curl your hair, and none that he cared to share with a complete stranger.

The horizon was burning in orange and pink, the clouds above shading to lavender. Daryl sucked down the last of his beer and was reaching for his boots when he heard a shout from behind them. 

“Carol! Jesus Christ, girl, where you been? We been lookin’ all over for you.” A beefy, balding man in swim trunks and flip-flops was trundling toward them along the waterline. His ruddy face twisted in a sneer as he came puffing up to the dock. “Sandy needs help packin’ up the food, and then I’ll run you home; she’ll catch a ride with the neighbors. I gotta get back and watch the Braves game, so don’t fuck around and keep me waitin’.” He gestured impatiently, holding out a hand to her like she was a recalcitrant child. “C’mon.”

Carol had risen from her seat and stood hugging herself, staying well back from the man’s reach. “Of course, Doug,” she said, soothingly. “Silly me, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. And there’s no need for you to leave the party to get me home--Daryl here was just offering to give me a ride.” Daryl, shoving one foot inside a boot, jerked in surprise and stared up at her. “Isn’t that right, Daryl?” Her eyes held a silent plea for him to play along.

What the _fuck?_ It was obvious this guy made Carol all kinds of uncomfortable, but for her to drag Daryl into whatever problem she had with him… He mentally kicked himself for not having left earlier, and then again for even thinking about pussying out on this. The woman clearly didn’t want to go anywhere with this rude asshole, and from the sound of him Daryl suspected she had good reason. “Uh, yeah. It’s on my way. Figured we’d save you the trip.” ‘ _We,’ like they were good friends or something._ The whole situation made him itch.

“You sure?” Doug said skeptically. “She’s all the way on the other side of Senoia. Prob’ly be easier if I take her.” 

“Nah, ‘s’okay,” Daryl mumbled, pulling on his other boot and rising to his feet. “So am I, so not a problem. Wouldn’t want you to miss none of the game.”

“You go ahead,” Carol said. “Tell Sandy I’ll be right there.” Doug shot a suspicious look at her and grunted his agreement before he turned back the way he’d come.

Carol watched him go, letting him get some distance away before she looked back to Daryl, her face troubled. “I am so sorry for this. You don’t even know me, and now I’ve gone and gotten you mixed up in my wretched family business. I wouldn’t blame you a bit if you told me off and left me here.”

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck, feeling for the knot that always formed there when he got tense. “Wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”

She took a quick breath and nodded. “Walk with me, if you would? If I don’t get over there, Doug will be right back--as soon as Sandy starts in on him--and I’d just as soon not deal with him any more than I absolutely have to.” 

She slipped her sneakers back on and Daryl moved to lend a hand as she bent to jump down to the sand. She twitched when he touched her arm, pulling away from him abruptly, and he stepped back, giving her some space.

“Whoa, easy. Just offering you a hand down. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You didn’t, just-- Doug makes me a little jumpy.”

They both climbed down, and this time Carol let him take her elbow to steady her across the rocks at the base of the dock. As soon as they reached the grass she moved away with a brief smile of thanks.

“So, what’s the story with him?” Daryl asked again, as they walked.

Carol chuckled, but she didn’t sound amused--more like bitter. “Doug would like to spend more time with me, I’m afraid. Preferably alone.” She glanced over at Daryl, a wry smile on her face. She didn’t have to spell it out for him. “He’s on his best behavior when he’s around Sandy, of course, but every chance he gets, he’s trying to corner me and get a handful of whatever he can reach. I do my best to avoid him, but situations like this… That’s why I was out here by myself. I was dreading the ride home, because I suspect one of these days he’s going to push it, and… I honestly don’t know how far he’d go.” She shuddered, and Daryl felt his insides churn.

“You think he’d try to--?” The idea made his head throb. That sick fuck, and her own kin, even if only by marriage. Small wonder she’d reached out to him for help.

“That’s what I’m worried about. Since Ed’s been gone--my husband, Doug’s younger brother--he’s constantly finding excuses to ‘help me out.’ Household repairs, offering to take me to run errands--even though I have a car of my own.” Her footsteps dragged as they came closer to the shelter house. “Even today. I have no earthly reason to be here, except that Doug decided I needed to get out and socialize, and he insisted they pick me up on the way. It wouldn’t surprise me one iota if the whole thing was part of a plan to get me alone tonight.”

“Fuckin’ creeper,” Daryl muttered. He shot an uneasy glance at Carol. “‘Scuse my mouth, but that ain’t right. Don’t blame you for trying to find some way outta getting in a car alone with him.”

Carol stopped and turned to face him. “I just realized, I still haven’t really asked. So, can I please get a ride back to town with you? Or at least to someplace where I can wait for a cab?” Her hands twisted in the edge of her shirt.

He exhaled sharply, the sound coming out harsh and edgy, and her eyes fell as she took an instinctive step away from him. Daryl shook his head, disgusted with the whole situation. How easy it was for that slimeball to trap her, get her under his thumb. Even now she just assumed Daryl was going to turn her down cold, leave her to the tender mercies of a would-be rapist. Daryl’s fingers flexed, itching to have hold of that greasy fucker’s throat and squeeze it ‘til his eyeballs popped out. Wouldn’t help her much, but it sure would be satisfying. “Yeah, I’ll definitely take you. Matter of fact, I’ll come along while you redd up, if that’s okay. Maybe give ol’ Doug a thing or two to think about.” The flush of relief that swept across her face made him glad he could do at least that much for her.

When they arrived back at the shelter house, the party was obviously winding down; kids being scolded back into shorts and jackets over their damp bathing suits, half-melted ice dumped out of coolers, and in the midst of it all, a short, plump woman in a hot pink and orange muumuu directing the action with the sharp tongue of a drill sergeant. “Just cover those wings with _tinfoil_ , I said, and set the pan down at the end of the table so Doug can put it in the back of the Tucson. I don’t know _who_ that one belongs to, they should have put their _name_ on their dish if they wanted it back, shouldn’t they? And _everybody_ needs to take some of that sheet cake home with them, Lord knows _I_ don’t want it around the house. Doug doesn’t _need_ all that sugar, and neither do I.” 

Sandy’s heavily-mascaraed eyes popped wide as she turned and found Daryl and Carol standing directly behind her. “Well, who are _you_ , then? Oh, Carol, good, I am _desperate_ for another set of hands here.” She frowned as Daryl took a seat on the closest picnic bench, settling back against the table, and whispered to Carol, “Where on earth did _he_ come from? Who _is_ he?” 

“This is Daryl,” Carol said, her tone patiently soothing. “We met just a little while ago, watching the sunset. He’s going to give me a ride home so Doug doesn’t have to miss any of the ballgame.” 

“Well, isn’t that so _sweet_ of him,” the woman exclaimed, her nose wrinkling slightly. Daryl couldn’t quite decide if he should laugh or be insulted, and it got even worse as Sandy dramatically pulled Carol aside and stage-whispered in her ear, “Are you _sure_? You don’t even _know_ him. He looks sort of… _dangerous._ ” 

“Oh, no more dangerous than your husband, I’m sure,” Carol said, with a winsome smile. Sandy’s mouth twitched into an involuntary half-frown, which Daryl found fairly interesting. So the wife already had a good idea what kind of tricks her hubby got up to when he was off the leash. 

Doug appeared just then, as if summoned. “You sure you don’t want me to drive you home, sugar?” He showed his teeth in a way that might have resembled a smile in anyone less reptilian, his eyes on the vee of Carol’s open-throated blouse. “I could lend you a hand with that sticky door I noticed when we picked you up today.” 

“Thought you was all anxious to get back for the game, _Doug_ ,” Daryl growled, coming to his feet and putting as much menace into his words as he could manage, and all around them the stragglers’ attention suddenly focused on the little group at the center. There was a flutter of interest, and several families discovered they needed to be headed home right that second. 

“Uh, yeah, right,” Doug stammered, his face going spotty and damp with sweat. Guy reminded Daryl of some of the lowlifes he’d met hanging around Merle, guys who acted tough but folded at the first hint of real trouble. “Well, you let me know if--” He didn’t finish that sentence as Daryl glowered at him, and he nearly twisted an ankle getting to the far end of the table to grab the next armload of leftovers. 

Carol grinned at Daryl over a half-empty bowl of pasta salad, and he grinned back. He didn’t do a lot of smiling these days, but damn it felt good, like he’d earned it.

“Well, good heavens, Sandy,” Carol exclaimed, taking advantage of the lull, “it looks like you’ve already got things handled. I don’t think you need me here after all, so I’m going to stop holding Daryl up and go ahead and go.” She grabbed a jacket off the table, and Daryl automatically rose to help her put it on. “Y’all have a nice evening, now.” She air-kissed the flabbergasted Sandy, slung her purse over her shoulder, and smiled cheerily at Daryl. “Shall we?”

Carol didn’t say another word as they went, but he could see her holding her mouth funny. It wasn’t until they reached the parking lot that she let go and started to laugh. “Oh, my, but that was fun! I think Doug might have peed his pants a little. If I didn’t know better, you might have scared me, too.”

He didn’t know what she was thinking, putting that on him. “You _don’t_ know no better, do you,” Daryl muttered. “I could be some kinda axe murderer; you shouldn’t go running off with me.” 

She stopped in her tracks. “You’re right, I suppose. You could be the same type as Doug. And Ed. And--” She sighed and shook her head. “But you’re not, are you. You’re the type who worries about whether he might offend me with his smelly boots. And plays along when I need a cover story. And helps me find the guts to risk offending the hell out of people who I shouldn’t be afraid of, people I give too much power over me--” Her voice wavered. “You’re a nice man. I’m at least that good a judge of character.” 

“I ain’t _nice_ ,” Daryl argued, “just ain’t apt to let a scumsucker like that get away with-- whatever.”

“See?” Carol pointed at him. “Nice.” She was smiling again. And then she wasn’t, looking past him with a slightly horrified expression. “What. Is that?”

He’d completely forgotten, when he agreed to help her out, how he’d gotten to the park himself, and now they stood beside the battered Triumph motorcycle he shared with Merle. “Uh, yeah. That a problem?” He yanked open the clasps on the right-side pannier and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the spare helmet. It was always a toss-up whether things would come back from Merle’s latest outing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a passenger on the bike. Right now, from the look on Carol’s face, it was still unsettled whether he’d have one today.

As he watched, she set her jaw and blew out a long breath, squaring her shoulders and reaching to take the helmet from his hand. Her eyes were still filled with anxiety, though. “I have no idea how this works. I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle. I just sit still and hold on, right?” 

“Pretty much,” Daryl agreed. He looked over what she was wearing. Something more substantial than her lightweight summer clothes would have made him happier, but neither of them had planned for this. Her denim jacket was some help; at least she wouldn’t take a chill along the way. “We’re gonna take it slow and stay off the highway, and I’ll do my best to go easy when we start and stop, but you’re gonna need to hang on to my waist. You okay with that?” He let her get settled on the back of the bike and showed her where to put her feet before he swung a leg over and started it up.

It took them nearly half an hour on surface roads to get to Carol’s little house, which, as it turned out, wasn’t all that far from his and Merle’s apartment. Carol was a quiet passenger and only betrayed her anxiety a couple of times, once when he’d hit a nasty bump going through some road repairs, and once when the car ahead of him braked unexpectedly and he’d had to hit his own brakes harder than he liked, especially with a novice on the back. She dug in with her fingers after that and didn’t let up for the rest of the ride. 

He knew they were getting close when she tapped him on the shoulder at a light, and he flipped his face shield up and leaned back to catch what she was saying. “Turn right at the next light and take the first left. It’s the yellow house about halfway down, with the big maple tree in the front yard.”

The moment he stopped in front of the house Carol hopped off the bike and began shaking herself all over, flapping her hands and stamping her feet. He watched her for a second, trying to keep from laughing, but he lost the battle when she shoved the helmet at him and said, “ _Shit_. That was intense.” He shut the bike off, settling it onto the kickstand and swinging himself off so he could return the spare helmet to its place. Not the most positive review of the experience he’d ever heard, but she had done better than he’d expected. 

“You could come in for a bit, if you like,” Carol offered, once she’d gotten that all out of her system. “I don’t think I have anything to drink. Well, juice, and water, but no beer or anything.” She glanced around the neighborhood as she spoke, and Daryl got the impression she expected prying eyes to take note of her arrival aboard a motorcycle. 

“Your kids with their dad today?” he asked, nodding toward the tire swing hanging from the tree. It would explain why she’d be at a family event without anyone but ex-in-laws. 

She reacted like he’d slapped her instead of just asked a question; took a step backward, her face going dead white. “Why,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Why would you…?” She turned quickly, heading toward the front door, but she staggered and nearly fell. Daryl automatically reached to catch her, but she shrugged his hand away and stopped in the middle of the path, her shoulders shaking.

She was crying, and he didn’t even have a clue how he’d fucked things up. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--” 

Carol gave a shuddering sob and wiped her face with her hands. “Not your fault, not your fault,” she whispered. “You didn’t know; how could you?”

It was beginning to make sense to him, as little good as that did now. “You said your husband was gone: I thought you meant he left. You meant _gone_ gone, didn’t you.” And that tire swing-- Daryl had a feeling it was worse even than a dead husband.

“ _Gone_ gone is one way to put it, I suppose,” Carol said bleakly, and then she straightened and put an artificial smile on her face as she changed the subject, effectively slamming the door on Daryl’s impulse to probe further. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a drink, and now that I think of it there’s a bottle of brandy in the kitchen.” She marched up the stairs, her back straight as a board, and paused at the door to look back at him. “Are you coming in or not?

* * * * *

“My late husband wasn’t a good person,” Carol said, once they were settled at the kitchen table, “but I didn’t realize that until after we were married, and where I come from, marriage is for life. I didn’t know there were other choices.” Daryl had passed on the offer of a brandy, mostly because he was on the bike, but he’d made sure to fill Carol’s glass. The color was beginning to return to her cheeks, although her eyes were still dark with memories. “Or maybe I should say I did know, but I was always taught that divorce was for sinners. I held onto that for a lot of years. It made things-- not easier, but I guess it gave me a reason I should stay. It’s amazing what we can justify to ourselves.”

“Easy to get comfortable, even in a rotten situation,” Daryl said. “Then one day you see things different and you wonder how you ever put up with it.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her that. Sounded like she had enough ugly history of her own; she didn’t need to hear about his.

“And sometimes you don’t. Sometimes things just change.” She reached for the bottle, but set it back down without pouring herself a refill. “Now, it all seems so obvious. He liked making me as miserable as he was. Blamed me for the fact that he never finished school, even though he flunked out because he spent too much time drinking and not enough studying. I tried telling him one time that he had a better chance of being promoted, the way he thought he deserved, if he’d just work a little harder at getting along with people--” She laughed shortly. “Never made that mistake again.”

“Sounds like a real asshole,” Daryl offered. 

“Understatement of the decade,” Carol replied, raising her empty glass. She eyed it for a moment and set it down, pushing it and the brandy bottle to the far end of the table, out of easy reach.

“I should get rid of that old swing,” she sighed. “Lord knows it would make my insurance agent happy. He’s told me more than once that it’s an ‘attractive nuisance’ and the parents could sue if one of their kids gets hurt on it. Guess I’ll have to find someone who’s not afraid of heights and has a tall enough ladder.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Suppose I could always ask helpful Doug to lend me a hand, huh?”

“Don’t you dare,” Daryl snapped, before he could stop himself. He didn’t have any say in what she did. “Sorry. Ain’t my call.”

“No, you’re absolutely right,” Carol said. “I didn’t actually mean I’d do it. Even I’m not that self-destructive. It’s just that-- sometimes it’s hard, having to figure everything out on my own.” She smiled again, and this time he saw the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t mind me, I’m a little thin-skinned right now.” 

“I could--” Daryl started to say, but stopped himself. What was he doing? He’d seen the lady home, like he said he would; kept her from what was probably a bad situation. He didn’t owe her anything more than that. 

He could hear Merle now. _We’re Dixons, little brother. We first, always._ Living by that creed hadn’t left them with much: nothing but each other. Some legacy.

Just because he felt a sort of momentary kinship with her didn’t mean there was anything else to it. But--

What he had was the right ladder for the job, and a curiously powerful urge to keep Doug as far away as possible from his former sister-in-law. “I could come by sometime and take it down for you. If you want.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The little thrill that ran up the back of his neck when she finally called caught him by surprise. He hadn't thought about her at all; not more than once or twice a day.

“Daryl? It’s Carol. I'm sorry, I know it's short notice, but is there any way you could come by this evening and see about the swing? Say maybe 6:30?” There was an edge to her voice, a tension that made him stop and put down the wrench in his hand.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “You okay? You sound upset.”

There was a long pause before she answered. “It's Doug. He left me a message, said he's coming over here after dinner. Something about some equipment of Ed’s that's supposed to be in the garage. I don't know what he's talking about, we cleaned all of that out a year ago, and now he’s not answering his phone. I-- I couldn't think who else to call.” She sighed into the phone. “I'm sorry. This is a lot to ask, isn't it. I should put on my big girl pants and tell him to screw off.”

“No, you did good. No sense in you trying to take him on by yourself when I’m just down the road.” The thought of her having to face that pervert alone put his blood right up. “6:30 soon enough? I can make it earlier if you want.”

He could hear her relief as she said, “No; not unless you want to eat dinner with me? It's nothing special, just going to fry up some chicken and throw together a salad. Come to think of it, that might go a ways toward paying you back for being my bodyguard.”

“Ain’t your bodyguard. And you don’t gotta pay me back for anything, I hate guys like him. Maybe I’m looking to get a shot at kicking his ass, ever think of that?” He meant it to be funny, but she didn’t laugh.

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t,” Carol said quietly. “Not that I’m saying he wouldn’t deserve it, but you could get in trouble. He’s got friends in the police department. Please don’t bring that down on yourself on my account.”

 _Things just kept getting better and better._ Blowhards like Doug always seemed to skate on the strength of who they knew, didn’t matter how flimsy the connection. Didn’t seem to matter, either, how long he’d kept on the straight and narrow; mention the name “Dixon” to a local cop and you could see their eyes gleam. It got his back up like nothing else. “He don’t start none, there won’t be none.” 

That got a quiet snort out of her. “Listen to you. So, Mister Badass, shall I expect you for dinner? I need to know how much to make.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “I could eat.” He calculated the time it would take him to finish up on the Malibu in front of him, get home and cleaned up and over to Carol’s-- “I could be there by, like, 5:30. That work for you?” 

“Perfect. Also, how do you feel about ice cream? I think there’s a couple different flavors in the fridge. I could possibly be persuaded to share.” 

“Okay, then, it’s a d--deal.” He almost bit his tongue trying to cover his stumble. “We’ll get ‘er handled before nightfall, run ol’ Doug off if he shows up.” 

“You’re my hero.” 

“Stop,” he muttered. “Just what friends do.”

“Is that what we are now?” she asked. “It’s been awhile since I had someone I could call a friend. I like it.” 

_Me, too,_ he wanted to say. “You’re willing to share your ice cream, that makes us friends, right?” 

She laughed. “Depends on whether you try to hog all the Rum Raisin.” 

It was like chasing a firefly, the way her fey humor kept changing directions. “Hey, no, that stuff’s gross. I might have to stop and pick up a pint of Moose Tracks on the way, if that’s what I got to look forward to.”

“Don’t you judge my rarefied tastes. But you go right ahead and bring your own supply if you feel like you need to. I’ll see you after a bit, Daryl.” 

* * * * *

He dallied more over what to wear than he’d ever thought possible. Dinner meant he should wear decent clothes. Taking down the tire swing meant smears of aging rubber, and probably ground-in moss, if he couldn’t get the ladder to set right and ended up having to climb for it. He ended up in a pair of dark blue jeans and a button-front shirt that almost matched, and grabbed one of his work coveralls for the dirty work. It would be uncomfortable as hell in the heat, but with luck the whole project wouldn’t take too long. 

“The hell you running off to?” Merle called, as Daryl came through the living room, headed for the side door.

“Just doing a favor for a friend,” he said. “I’m taking the truck.”

Merle frowned and looked intrigued enough to consider getting up from the recliner to come see what Daryl was doing, but apparently it was too much effort. “Since when you got friends, anyway?” 

“Since now, I guess,” Daryl said, but he was already out of Merle’s earshot. One less thing he needed to explain.

He pulled up in front of Carol’s house a few minutes early. “Well, don’t you look nice,” Carol said, opening the door. Her hair was damp and her cheeks were pink, a smudge of flour on her neck. “But I’m afraid you’re going to wreck your clothes, trying to get that thing down from the tree.” 

“No problem; came prepared,” he said, hefting the dark green coveralls. “Let me pop this ice cream in the freezer before it turns to soup.” He chuckled when he saw what was already in there. “Couple different flavors, huh?” 

She covered her smiling face with her hands and hung her head. “I admit that I am powerless against my Haagen-Dazs habit,” she said. “I think I might need an intervention.”

“Don’t look at me,” Daryl said, “I almost bought three more pints. Couldn’t pick.” He’d expected her to be all tied up in knots over the prospect of Doug’s impending visit, but here she was, joking like she hadn’t a care in the world. “Thought about picking up a six-pack, too; ain’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you come to dinner? But I didn’t know what would go with Cinnamon Cashew Fudge Ripple.” 

“Oh, my god, that sounds heavenly,” Carol groaned. “I’m sorry, Rum Raisin, but I think you’ve been replaced.” 

Dinner was already well in hand, so she pointed Daryl to one of the tall stools by the counter while she put the chicken in to fry. “I’m thinking we’ll eat on the back deck, if that’s okay with you. It’s too stuffy in here, even with the fans going full tilt. At least the air’s moving out there.”

She had a tidy, elegant way of moving around in the compact space--everything she needed within reach, or at most a single step. It was a weird feeling, watching somebody else do all the work to feed him. “Something I can do to help? Take the plates out, maybe?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. On the shelf in the mudroom, next to the back door; there’s two citronella candles and one of those bug repellent incense things. If you could carry those out and get them started? It won’t be perfect, but it should cut down on visitors.” 

When he came back in she was still in front of the stove, but her smile had disappeared. “Speaking of ‘visitors’--” She paused to tend to the chicken in the pan, taking her time rearranging it to her satisfaction before she spoke. “When Doug gets here tonight, I need you to let me handle him. I’m glad to have you here, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m not strong enough to keep him off me if he decided to--” She stopped again and looked at him, her face full of apology and strain.

“I get it,” Daryl said. “I do. You gotta do it your way.” She didn’t know his story. Didn’t realize he’d been in her shoes, needing to stand up for himself against something that scared the hell out of him. “I been there.” His mouth was suddenly desert-dry. “Hey, you got anything cold to drink? I can get it, just point me to the glasses.” 

Carol’s eyes narrowed. “Glasses are in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Lemonade’s in the fridge. Ice in the bin in the freezer. The tap water’s pretty good, too, if you’d prefer. It’s from a well.” She watched him as he moved around her, collecting two glasses and filling both with ice. “I’ll have some lemonade, if you’re taking orders.”

“My dad was a drunk,” Daryl said, before he could talk himself out of it. He set her lemonade within reach of the stove and returned to his stool on the far side of the counter. “Mean, ugly, miserable drunk bastard. My mom too, but she died when I was a little kid, and I just remember her being sad all the time.” He could see her even now, sitting at the table in a small kitchen very much like this one, her eyes bleary with the previous night’s whiskey and tears. “But my old man, he was a lot like you say your husband was. Couldn’t stand for nobody to have something that made them happy. Get a good grade in school, he’d tear up the paper and make fun of you for wanting to learn something. Have a favorite toy, he’d smash it up the next time he thought you were sassing him. Found a kitten one time, figured I’d keep it in my room and no one would know-- You don’t want to hear the rest of that one.”

“Oh, Daryl,” Carol sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, ain’t your fault.” He hadn’t told her for sympathy, and he truly didn’t want things to go that way between them, trading misery for misery. 

“You know what I mean,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. No child should ever…” She rubbed her cheek on the shoulder of her shirt and pulled the frying pan off the stove. “So how did you get out? And you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want.” 

“I didn’t.” He’d only ever told anyone the first part before, the surface part, the kind of thing they’d seen on TV shows, so it was familiar. It kept them from digging deeper if they thought they understood what it was all about. “I got a brother. Merle. He’s a lot like our dad; mad at the world and no good sense. He drinks too much, too, but at least he never got himself a family that would suffer for it.” He looked over to see her nodding along in empathy. “Merle used to wind the old man up and get him to where he’d beat Merle within an inch of his life, only he was doing it to protect me. Keep the old man off me. Then Merle gets himself in dutch with the cops and he gets packed off to the Army to stay outta jail. And the old man still needs somebody under his thumb, so he don’t have to look at what a piece of shit he is.

“I didn’t have nowhere to go. Had teachers and social workers and the sheriff’s department all wanting me to say what he was doing so they could get me out. But I couldn’t. He was my blood. He was the only thing I had left.” He walked a little ways away so he could duck his head down and wipe his eyes without Carol seeing. 

“And maybe part of you thought you deserved it? Or at least that the devil you knew was preferable to the alternative?” Her voice sounded thick, like maybe her eyes were a little wet, too.

“Something like that. Hell, I couldn’t even tell you why. But I stayed. Then he died, and I had to figure things out for myself.” 

“I definitely get that,” Carol said, right behind him. “You did good for yourself, though. I can tell.” She touched him then--laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, just for a second. It was so quick he hardly had time to react. Right about then, though, he really wished he’d gone ahead and bought that six-pack.

* * * * *

They were lingering over their empty plates, both trying not to watch the clock, when Doug’s voice blared out from around the front of the house. “Carol! My key don’t work.” 

“I changed the locks after last weekend,” Carol mouthed to Daryl. 

“Good thing, looks like,” he replied. They both stood to meet Doug, who was making his way through the side yard, red-faced and muttering under his breath.

“Need to get a locksmith out here or something, fix that,” Doug was saying as he came up onto the deck. He stopped short when he saw Daryl. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Despite her earlier warning, Carol’s hand on his wrist was about the only thing keeping Daryl from stepping up and knocking the guy right on his ass. Her grip tightened as she said, “There’s no need for a locksmith, Doug; I had the locks changed, that’s all.” 

“What for? You have a break-in or something? I’ll need a new key, then.” 

“No, you won’t,” Carol said, her voice clear and steady. She pressed down on Daryl’s forearm until he sank back into his chair. “I think I’ll be fine on my own from here on out, Doug. I won’t be needing your help around the house. And if I do, I have your number; I can always call.”

Doug blinked like he’d been struck in the head with a two-by-four. “The fuck you talking about? This is my brother’s house. I’ve always had a key.” He didn’t wait for Carol’s response, turning his glare on Daryl. “You got yourself a new man, you don’t need your family no more, is that it?” 

Daryl got his feet under him again, but Carol shot him a warning glance and he settled back down. “Actually, it’s _my_ house now, and not that it’s your business, but Daryl’s a friend. And let’s face it, we’re not family anymore, if we ever were. Now, I appreciate what you and Sandy have done for me since Ed died, but I think we both know it’s not out of some sense of loyalty that you’ve kept coming around the way you have, and I’m-- I’m _done_ putting up with it.” Her face was pale and stern, like a queen, Daryl decided. Like a ruler coldly passing sentence on a criminal.

“I don’t know what the hell you been smoking, Miss Priss; I only been good to you. This guy--” Doug suddenly turned and took a hard look at Daryl. “Wait, ain’t this the guy you picked up at the cookout last weekend? You got nerve, actin’ like I’m some kind of horndog and you’re here playin’ house with this piece of trash you met a week ago?”

Daryl watched as Carol’s back stiffened and she stalked across the deck to get right in Doug’s face. She didn’t stop even when she reached him, forcing him to retreat down the steps to avoid her. “Who I choose to spend time with is none of your concern. But hear this: I don’t care if you think I’m a slut, or if you have hurt feelings that I’m finally calling you on your behavior-- or anything else, really. You’ve been a thorn in my side for long enough, and I’m simply having you--extracted. Permanently.” 

Doug sneered and opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she kept going, not letting him get a word in. “Now,” she continued, “you can ignore what I’ve said and keep on exactly like you’ve been doing: keep calling, and texting me, and showing up, trying to get into my pants, but I promise you, there will be consequences.”

Doug guffawed. “What are you gonna do, take out a restraining order against me or something? You know I got friends on the force; they ain’t gonna arrest me for coming on my brother’s property to look after his widow.”

She smiled, icy and calm, and Daryl had an image of sharp teeth just behind it. She didn’t need him to jump in; she was doing just fine on her own.

“Oh, I know all about your drinking buddies and how you hide behind them. No, I’m talking about your _wife._ Remember her? She may not take my word over yours, at least not right away, but Sandy isn’t stupid, and I imagine she already has her suspicions, with the eagle eye she keeps on you.” Doug’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. “Plus, I’ve kept track: every sleazy comment; every time you’ve tried to cop a feel. Dates, times; what you were supposed to be doing when you were over here. There might even be a few recordings from those unannounced visits you’ve been so fond of. ‘That’s a fine tight ass you got there, Carol.’ ‘Think you’ve forgotten what a real man’s like, Carol.’” Her voice was rising. “‘ _Sandy would never have to know, Carol, we could keep things just between us.’_ ” 

“Why, you scheming little _whore_ ,” Doug snarled, lunging back up the steps, and Daryl had heard enough. He was up on his feet and grabbed a handful of Doug’s tired yellow polo shirt as the man reached the top of the stairs, and all he had to do was let Doug’s own momentum carry him around in an arc that ended with his face meeting the side of the house. 

“Damn, you’re clumsy,” he heard himself say, as he held Doug against the siding. A wave of alcoholic fumes rolled over him as Doug struggled to get loose. “Or just stupid drunk, I guess. Lemme get you a napkin for that nose.” There was a little creaking noise behind him as Carol moved away from them, but she didn’t interfere.

Doug continued to spit garbled threats as he tried to stanch the blood streaming from his nose, but Daryl couldn’t make out exactly what he was trying to say. Something about seeing the man with blood dripping down his chin like that tickled a memory, though, and Daryl finally put two and two together.

“You know, Doug, I just figured out why you looked so familiar the other day. See, I got a brother, spends some time in a titty bar down on Chalfont. I been in there a time or two when he’s got too drunk to make it home under his own power. You was there, too, one time.” Merle had been his usual uncooperative self, but all hell had broken loose between a couple of overfed white guys, distracting everybody and giving Daryl a chance to hustle Merle out the door. Daryl had had his hands full keeping his brother from trying to jump in on the fracas, but he’d overheard enough to know the idiots smacking the hell out of each other were two of the owners. He didn’t stick around to learn what had kicked off the fight. 

“So?” Doug’s nose had swollen to the size of a potato. “Whad aboud it? ’s a free country.”

“Bet your wife don’t know you got a part interest in a place like that.” Daryl leaned his forearm a little harder into the back of Doug’s neck and turned his head to look over at Carol. “What do you think about that?” 

Her eyebrows were reaching for the sky. “Oh, dear, Doug. And you a deacon in the church. What would your congregation think? Let alone your poor wife.” 

Later, Daryl would swear that he thought someone had pulled the plug on the man, as all the fight went out of him and he sagged in Daryl’s grip. He made a few more combative noises and hawked an enormous wad of blood-tinged spittle on the deck, but it was over. Carol had beat him. 

She was a hell of a lot more gracious about it than Daryl would have been, though. “I meant what I said, Doug. You keep away from me, and I won’t tell Sandy what I know about you.” 

For a man who had just had his bluff so neatly called by a woman half his size, Doug still tried out his best bluster. “Don’t you go calling me next week, whinin’ about how your boyfriend here run off with your car or cleaned out your bank account,” Doug declared. “You made your bed.”

“You better believe it, buster,” Carol said, and Daryl thought he’d never seen such pride shine in someone’s eyes before. “All mine, and I’m pretty happy with that bed right now. Now, you run along home to your wife. I don’t want to see you again.”

The moment Doug disappeared around the side of the house Carol put an unsteady hand on the banister and let herself down to sit on the steps, lowering her head to rest on her knees. She stayed there for a while, rocking gently, until she finally looked up to find Daryl watching. Her cheeks were wet, but she was smiling softly.

“Well, that’s it, then,” she said. “The last connection.” Daryl couldn’t quite tell whether that made her happy or sad: probably both.

“You sorry to cut them loose?” He tapped the back of his hand against her shoulder, nudging her over so he could join her on the step. Now that the encounter was over, his adrenaline was backing off and he could breathe normally again. Any showdown that didn’t result in him seeing the inside of a police station he’d take as a win.

“Not really--I mean, they knew how things were with Ed, and they did nothing. They saw the bruises; Doug took me to the emergency room once when Ed broke my wrist. Sandy took Sophia home with her for the night. The next day we all got together for breakfast at IHOP.” She shrugged, looking down at where her fingers fiddled with the hem of the opposite sleeve. Another tear rolled down her face. “I don’t hate them. I feel like maybe I should, but I don’t. Mostly what I feel is relieved.” 

He wasn’t even sure she realized she’d said it--that name she hadn’t mentioned before now. He wanted to ask, but she was already rattled. He didn’t intend to add to it. “You still gonna be up for ice cream in a bit? I got a job to do out front first, before it gets dark.” 

* * * * *

Carol followed him out to the truck and lent a hand getting the ladder down off the roof rack. “Think you can spot me?” Daryl asked. “Just to keep it steady. Ground here is kinda uneven.”

She held on tight to the side rails as he climbed. “I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said. “I’ve been really torn about getting rid of it, but I think I’m ready. It’s been hard to see it every day, especially when the neighborhood kids come around and want to play on it--brings back too many memories. It’s just a ratty old tire, right?” 

“You know that ain’t all,” he said. He looked down at her one last time before he made the cut. “Last chance to change your mind,” he said. “You sure you want me to do this?”

Carol’s smile was sad, but resigned. “It’s time. Past time, really.” 

“Okay, then.” A few strokes and the rope parted, dumping the tire into the grass. As soon as Daryl reached the ground, Carol dragged the tire out of the way and leaned it up against the tree while she gathered the length of rope into a coil. 

“Sophia was the only good thing that came out of our marriage,” she said, so quietly that he thought at first she was talking to herself. “Sometimes I think... sometimes I wish I’d been able to get myself together and leave him in those early years, when I thought there would never be a baby. But then I wouldn’t have had her. And I wouldn’t have lost her.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Pain either way.” 

“You ain’t gotta tell me.” 

“No, I do,” she said. “Dessert first, though, I think.” 

They skipped the fuss of bowls and took their pints out to the front porch, sitting on the steps while Carol told him stories about the people on her street. “The blue bungalow over there with the gardens, that’s Eloise Fordham. She’s ninety-something years old and still does most of the yardwork herself. And the brick house next door is Dr. Strickland. He’s a retired college professor. He bought Sophia her very first book, when she wasn’t even a day old. _Pat the Bunny_.” 

She looked up the street, shading her eyes and squinting into the setting sun. “We were the first new family in a couple of decades, and the older folks just glommed onto my girl like she was their own grandbaby. Ed didn’t much like it, but he couldn’t very well say so without looking like… well, what he was. I think that protected her from a lot of it.” She didn’t say what _it_ was, but Daryl had a pretty good idea. 

“You know,” she said after another long pause, her voice gone thoughtful, “usually I meet someone new and I end up explaining that I’m a widow and a-- there’s no word for someone who’s lost a child; why is that? And their face _changes_. And then they have to tell me how _sorry_ they are, even though they never knew my baby, or what a monster Ed was, and--” She shook her head and looked over at him, her nose wrinkling up as she fought for a smile. “Have I told you yet how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me?”

It sounded to Daryl like there was something more behind the words, something she was holding back from saying. Like she was getting ready tell him, _thanks for the assist, you can go now._ He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He switched the empty ice cream carton into his right hand and stood, holding out his left. “Come on. We’re gonna miss sunset.” 

Carol stared in confusion at his outstretched hand, and then up at his face. “What?” 

It was a screwball idea, but it was the only thing he could think of to keep from having to leave and never see her again. “Last time at the lake, you didn’t get to watch the sun go down ‘cause of Doug. I think you need a good sunset.”

For a few seconds she didn’t respond, and Daryl felt his stomach lurch. Maybe she’d rather he just left now, let her work things out without him hanging around gumming up the process. Then she laughed and took the offered hand, letting him help her to her feet. “You’re a funny guy, Daryl,” she murmured. “Yeah. I think that would be nice. Did you have someplace in mind?” 

That took him aback. “The lake? Unless you don’t--”

“No, of course,” she said. “That’s perfect. Not apt to be a lot of people out there on a weeknight. Can’t think of anywhere better to thumb my nose at ex-in-laws.” 

A piece of him wished he’d brought the bike again. It was a perfect night for it, the temperature starting to drop as the sun slipped lower, and it would have been sort of… poetic. To bookend the time he’d spent in her company, start to finish. He didn’t normally think that way, though: until now, when it was too late.

He skipped the highway again, taking the state road once they got out of the residential neighborhoods and making a roundabout approach to the park. Carol didn’t seem to mind, and leaned lazily against the door, hand-surfing the air currents out the open truck window like a kid, a serene smile on her face. 

They pulled into the parking lot by the shelter house and walked by silent agreement out to the dock where they’d met. The sun was buried in the trees, the apricot light sheeting across the shimmering water. Carol was nearly skipping, her buoyant energy broadcasting her relief.

The decrepit old dock looked just the same. Daryl felt like it should have been different somehow, even though it had only been about a week. Everything else had changed; it seemed only right this would, too. 

He pulled himself up onto the dock and turned to help Carol, but she’d boosted herself up right behind him and was swinging her legs around to stand up. “Oh, look at that,” she breathed, pointing out over the water. Daryl turned to see a flock of Canada geese as they burst up off of the surface, their silhouettes dark against the yellow-orange sky as they banked past the trees on the far side of the lake. 

“Nice,” he said. “Almost worth the drive just for that.” He crouched at the edge and eased himself down on the boards, careful to avoid picking up splinters. Carol stood next to him, watching the birds as they disappeared against the horizon. 

“Looks like we made it just in time,” Carol commented. She crossed her feet and folded herself into a neat bundle on the deck beside him. “I love how the colors look, like a watercolor painting, all blurred one into the next.” She bumped Daryl with her elbow. “This was a good idea. Thank you. I needed to get out of my head, else I probably would have spent the whole evening fretting over Doug.”

“Sorry I didn’t let you deal with him like you asked,” Daryl said. “I just--”

“No, you were right!” Carol said. “I’m hardly going to complain, since I think you kept him from clobbering me. My lord, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that mad before.”

“You handled him like a pro, though,” he said, fiddling with the ragged board ends next to him. “You never backed down.”

“But you got him with that thing about the strip club. I never would have dreamed. Did you really just put that together?” 

“Just that minute. Didn’t make the connection until I saw him with a bloody nose again. Wasn’t like I was paying all that much attention the first time I saw him.”

“I remember when that happened,” Carol said, chuckling. “He told Sandy some cockamamie story about the dog jumping up and hitting him in the face with its head.” Daryl couldn’t keep his face from wrinkling up in disbelief. “I’m serious. She bought it, too, as far as I know.” She pursed her lips and looked sidelong at Daryl. “Your brother sounds like quite a handful.”

“Yeah,” he said, “that’s Merle in a nutshell.” What else could he say? Merle was Merle. Funny, though; he thought his brother would like her. Probably too much. But she’d see right through Merle’s trashmouth and likely wouldn’t put up with it. Might actually do Merle some good, to have somebody around who would give him a little lip right back. Pity that wouldn’t happen, now. 

“You did all right for yourself,” Daryl said. “Don’t think Doug’s gonna chance you knocking down his little house of cards, now he knows you’ve got his number.” He wanted it to be true for her, and maybe it would be. “Guess I can put ‘former bodyguard’ on job applications from now on. Ain’t like my services are gonna be needed here, right?”

Another sort-of joke that fell flat. Carol’s head came around like a whip, spotting how he’d caught his lower lip in his teeth. Her face went still. “Wait, are you-- look, I know I’ve asked a _lot_ of you, and you’ve been so, so generous, you don’t even know how much. But if I’ve used up all your goodwill, _tell me._ ” She rested a hand on his arm, and the warmth of her palm sent a ripple of gooseflesh all the way up to his shoulder. “I would never, ever want you to regret the way you reached out to me, because I wore out my welcome. I’ll be _fine_ on my own. You can get back to your life, no guilt. I mean it.”

She did mean it, every word, and for some reason that dug even harder into his chest. That she was so used to people walking away it was normal for her. “Ain’t what I meant,” he muttered. “Just-- I figured you’d be glad enough to see the back of me. You got things to do. Put all this behind you.”

Her gaze felt like an anvil weighing on him. “And what if that’s not what I want?” 

The question lodged in his throat. _What_ do _you want?_

“Hey,” she said, when he wouldn’t raise his eyes to look at her. “I thought we were becoming friends?” 

“We were. Are.” His head was spinning. “I don’t know--” _how to do that_ , was what he wanted to say. 

“What if I asked you to come to dinner again on Sunday? Not because I owe you, but because I like spending time with you?” She was watching him like he was about to run, and maybe he was. Now that he’d done what he set out to, he found he didn’t know what else to do. 

“Daryl,” she said, when he didn’t answer after a minute. She sounded like the lady who used to run the front desk at the library, who said his name like that when he’d done something dumb and she knew he knew better. “You don’t need to rescue me anymore. But I like your company. Anything else, we can figure it out as we go. Okay?”

She held her hand out--a gesture of trust and agreement that felt like more. “Okay,” he said. “Dinner on Sunday. See if you still want me around.” 

“Okay,” Carol said, smiling. “I don’t think there’s much doubt about that, but if you need convincing--” 

“Park’s closing, folks!” The man’s voice rang out from the beach behind them, making both of them jump. Neither of them had heard him approach. “Sunrise to sunset, says right there on the sign where you came in.” 

Carol scrambled to her feet, with Daryl slower to rise. There was something in him that automatically resisted whatever a uniform told him to do. 

“Sorry, sir,” Carol called. “We were just chatting and lost track of time.” 

The young ranger frowned and cleared his throat as he came closer and got a good look at them. “Usually it’s kids I’m rousting out of here,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you, but I gotta clear everyone out at sundown and replace the chain.” 

“Just doing your job,” Carol said breezily, and wiggled her fingers at Daryl. “Give me a hand down, fella?” 

She didn’t let go, even once they’d cleared the rocks and were headed up the slope toward the parking lot. Daryl’s steps lagged, and she paused to adjust her grip. He was looking down at their joined hands. 

“Is this okay with you?” she said, giving a small squeeze. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, and he discovered to his surprise that he meant with all of it. Whatever came along with her, he was good with it. “So, Sunday--what kind of ice cream do you want with dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to @alannastara, without whom this story would have been a lot less satisfying. Thanks, darlin'.

**Author's Note:**

> My undying appreciation to alannastara for beta and moral support. This would not have made it to publication without her.


End file.
